


Getting Over it

by Sukopion



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Rejection, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27693116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukopion/pseuds/Sukopion
Summary: Years have passed since Edward last saw Ling. They still write, but the gap between them feels vast, both in distance and in life experience, after they part ways. Life goes on; Ed gets married and he and Winry share a life that he never thought he deserved. Ed should be happy.Why isn't he happy?
Relationships: Edward Elric/Ling Yao, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Mei Chan | May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang (mentioned)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Getting Over it

Edward should be happy. He has made it through so much, rectified many wrongs, and brought his country justice. His life is fulfilling; he and Winry are married and she’s a wonderful wife. She makes sure that he eats, gives him room to study and research, and has never once told him that he couldn’t travel the world and seek knowledge as he has always done. She still creates incredible pieces of automail daily, often holed up in her garage for hours at a time. She provides for them and Ed couldn’t be more proud of the woman she has become. They have a daughter; she’s 5 now, and she has Winry’s big blue eyes and beautiful blonde hair. His life is perfect in a way that Edward never thought he deserved, but there is always something that feels a bit off-kilter. It’s not as if Ed isn’t happy, but he feels like he’s missing something. 

He often thinks of those he had known in the past, something nostalgic and melancholy curling in his chest when he thinks of the Hughes family. He wonders how big Elicia must be now and how her mother is getting along. He tries to stay in touch with Hawkeye and Mustang and the work they're doing in the capital; he wonders if those two will ever stop dancing around each other and get married. He thinks of Ling the most. He finds his thoughts drifting towards the young emperor, even when doing the most mundane of things. When he is brushing his daughter’s hair, he is consumed by the brief memory of Ling’s hands carding through his hair, telling him about the significance of its color in his country. When he is cooking in their small, quiet kitchen, he finds himself fondly thinking of the bottomless pit that he called his friend. 

They’re both so much older now, but they still write. He is shocked when the first letter arrives almost 7 years after the Promised Day, wrapped in pretty parchment and signed in elegant penmanship that he knew belonged to Ling. He eagerly wrote back, and they’ve been corresponding for months now. They talk about anything and everything. Ling tells him about his reform of the country and how he is being constantly pestered to take a bride, and Ed tells him about his quiet life in Resembool. They’re both desperately missing each other and the shenanigans they got up to, confessing these feelings slowly and eloquently until it finally hits him. He finds himself caressing the last letter from Ling with such tender hands, a feeling that he hasn’t acknowledged in years bubbling up from deep in his chest. He has the realization _‘Oh my god. I’m in love with Ling_ ,’ far too late. He’s beside himself with grief and he admits this to Al one night, drunk and bitter, and his brother convinces him to tell Ling the next time he writes a letter. “Better late than never,” Alphonse tells him with a shrug, “He deserves to know.” There is a pinch between his brows when he says it, and Ed knows that he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead, Al tips back the last of whiskey in his brother’s flask and offers him a small smile.

By now, it’s too late. He throws away scraps of paper with bittersweet words scratched into the margins, tearing himself up over the decision. Would it even be fair now, after all this time, to tell him? Would Ling even write back? Would he even want to hear from Ed again? Ed knows that Ling is running a country and that he has a wife, and that he probably has better things to be doing than reading the confessions of a man he knew in his youth. He rubs his fingers over the edges of the last letter Ling sent, drinking in the gentle, almost loving words. He could almost hear them, feel them, being spoken against neck:

_My dearest Edward,_

There is a part of him that is hopeful that Ling feels the same way, but more than anything, he wants to tell him. He cannot bear the heaviness in his heart nor the agony curling inside him whenever he loses himself in the thought of the other man. It feels as if there is something sitting below his ribcage, wound tight and uneasy, ready to burst out of him. He knows it isn’t fair to either of them; they live separate lives. Edward has a wife and a child and Ling has an obligation to his country. For all he knows, he may end up permanently banned from Xing or ruin his marriage. 

He writes it anyway, spilling himself onto the pages with shameful honesty as he expresses years worth of unrealized pining. He can barely stand to read it over, instead folding it neatly with shaking hands. He seals it in the envelope, presses a longing kiss to the seam, and sends it off in the post. His heart is heavy in his chest with the reality of what he has done— the reality of the feelings that he has accepted. 

Winry notices something is wrong; she always does. He tells her, sitting at their kitchen table with his face pressed into his hands. Her thumbs rub gentle circles into his shoulder blades as he heaves a sob, feelings of shame and regret pouring over him in waves. She shushes him quietly, palms spread wide and soothing over his back. She tells him that she has always kind of known and assures him that it’s okay. “Half of your life, right?” she reminds him, a small, bright smile on her face as she glances over at their daughter. Trisha is chasing the dog up and down the hallway, ingenuous laughter ringing throughout their home. The sound softens his heart and only makes the reality of what he feels weigh heavier on his shoulders. “You’ve given me that,” Winry says quietly, eyes soft and accepting. He’s only ever known love from this woman and he feels himself tremble under her hands. Why can’t she just be enough?

He receives no mail from Xing the next week or the week after that. He tries not to wait around for a letter, but he finds himself sitting on the front steps every day until the sun goes down. The repetitive orange and red blend of the sunset begins to make him sick. He knows that he is shrinking into himself, becoming less and less of a person every day, but he cannot stop his fall. He feels the regret whittle him down to nothing the more time that passes. He lives in a daze of contrition, unable to pull himself out of the grave he has dug. Al comes over often, especially on the days Winry can’t convince him to eat. They try to cheer him up; they bring him more books, papers, and news in an attempt to otherwise distract him, trying to coax something other than resigned, bitter silence from him, but Ed is inconsolable. Rejection cuts deeply, but the idea that he may never hear from Ling again tears him open in a way he had never experienced before. He supposes there was a part of him that hoped his feelings would not ruin everything, but it’s gone now, burned away by reality. The finality of what he’s done sinks deep into his bones as time passes. 

Eventually, he drags himself up. He gets over it. After all, he’s been through much worse in his lifetime. He ignores the gaping hole in his chest and the ever-burning grip of his wedding ring. He still hasn’t taken it off, even though Winry has stopped wearing hers. Life goes on, he tells himself. He spends time with his daughter, sitting her on his knee and telling her stories. He spends another birthday with her, takes her fishing, teaches her how to ride a bike, and dances with her in the kitchen when he thinks Winry isn’t looking. He stops checking for the mail. He tells himself he’s over it. 

Alphonse still comes over often. He, too, has a family of his own now and he brings his tiny bundle of joy with him every time he visits. He and Mei are happy in a way that Ed cannot understand. He wants to ask him how they make it work, but when he sees the way his brother looks at his wife, he knows that there is something there that he simply cannot give to Winry, not anymore. He stops wearing his ring after that, though he does keep it in his pocket on most days. Winry treats him no differently, if not a bit softer. She can tell that he is slowly letting go of what he thinks he needs to be. He is enough, she assures him. He will always be enough. 

A year has passed since he sent that dreadfully hopeful letter. Edward still thinks about Ling. He dreams of him, broad and loud, and often wakes up with a new ache somewhere in him. He is getting over it, he tells himself, even when he catches himself thinking of long, dark hair between his fingers while he’s brushing out his own. Alphonse has said that he wishes Edward would consider traveling to Xing with him and Mei, but Ed only chastises him and says that they have to wait until their son is old enough to make the journey. Al only laughs and tells him that it’s only a matter of time; Ed is thankful that Al never says Ling’s name, but he can tell what his brother is thinking. He never declines the offer, however, and finds himself thinking about it often. He is getting over it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a chapter two written to this but I'm not sure if it's worth posting. Any feedback is very much appreciated!
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
